Sunday, Bloody Sunday
by Waiyza
Summary: They were supposed to be the good side, the side that stood for what was right, the side with Harry bloody Potter! Then why --- why did it seem like they were losing? songfic to a U2 song of the same title


**Sunday, Bloody Sunday**  
  
_I can't believe the news today  
  
Oh, I can't close my eyes  
  
And make it go away  
  
How long...?  
  
How long must we sing this song?  
  
How long, how long...?_  
  
Things began to take a turn for the worst on a warm Friday evening when I was spending a serene day browsing the shops of Hogsmeade.  
  
Things seemed to be a little too peaceful; I had sensed it coming. It was sort of a sixth sense I had acquired after my first year at Hogwarts. A sense that let me know something bad was going to happen. My body would tense up and my blood would freeze every time it happened. I had always considered it a burden, but I guess I should have been more grateful -- it had saved my skin countless times before.  
  
"Paper, paper! Breaking news! Get the paper!" a small brown haired boy yelled at the top of his lungs.  
  
A fearful hush suddenly fell over the crowd that had been so joyous a few seconds ago. People stood frozen in their places fear flashing in their eyes. Within a moment the boy's words finally hit them and they all rushed over, forming a gigantic circle around him. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd, my wild locks flying everywhere and my brown eyes searching for the boy. I found him in the middle of a small group of people. I made my way through them.  
  
"How much…?" I breathlessly asked the boy.  
  
"Seven sickles," he replied, stretching his hand out for the payment.  
  
I paid him, snatched my copy of the paper, and pushed my way out of the crowd. I nearly fainted when I read the headline: **Auror**** Seamus Finnigan Taken Prisoner. I held the paper to my chest, where my heart was bursting with grief and began blindly walking through the near-empty streets. I didn't have any destination in mind I just wanted to keep moving. As long as I was moving the fear and pain wouldn't hit me. I broke into a run and images of shops and people blurred past me. I kept running, and running, and running. The cold air nipped my face and the wind seemed to be pulling against me.  
  
Sometime during my wandering I had found a bench and had stopped there to rest. I sat on the cold bench for what seemed like hours, weeping bitterly. Everything just kept getting worse. We were supposed to be the good side, the side that stood for what was right, the side with Harry bloody Potter! Then why --- why did it seem like we were losing?  
  
I forced myself up and began angrily rubbing away my tears.  
  
"I will not let myself cry anymore, I will not let myself cry anymore," I fiercely whispered to myself, as I apparated to my flat in London.  
  
_Broken bottles under children's feet  
  
Bodies strewn across the dead end street  
  
But I won't heed the battle call  
  
It puts my back up  
  
Puts my back up against the wall_  
  
The day I had dreaded finally made its appearance on a cold, gloomy, Saturday.  
  
I walked through the dark streets of London, now destroyed. I could smell the scent of freshly spilled blood and saw the bodies of many great Aurors strewn here and there. Orphaned children walked bare footed, with tears streaming down their faces, blindly looking for help. I fought the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. Be strong, be strong, you've seen all this before.  
  
Many of the dead were my classmates, people from my Auror training class, people who had families, people I had grown to love; people who hadn't deserved to die.  
  
I stopped at the first body I recognized - the body of a young man. I knelt down beside him. It was Michael Corner - the first and last man to ever break my heart. I rested one hand on his cold face and with the other stroked his soft hair. Without thinking I leaned down and quickly brushed my lips against his cold cheek. A moment later I threw up all over him.  
  
I sat next to him for a long time - I simply couldn't will myself to get up. When I finally forced myself up I began walking away, but then turned back. I didn't want his family to find him covered in my filth. I muttered a spell underneath my breath and the vomit cleared off. With one last glance at him I walked away.  
  
My breathing became ragged as I realized that if it wasn't for my defiance I could have been one of the dead. I had refused to fight; convinced that we still needed more training. Obviously I was right, however thinking of it only made my heart break even more.  
  
_Sunday, Bloody Sunday  
  
Sunday, Bloody Sunday  
  
Sunday, Bloody Sunday  
  
And the battle's just begun  
  
There's many lost, but tell me who has won  
  
The trench is dug within our hearts  
  
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters  
  
Torn apart  
  
How long...?  
  
How long must we sing this song?  
  
How long, how long...?_  
  
The first time I had broken down in front of my family happened on a Sunday evening. I had always wanted to be strong around them.  
  
I sat silently around the dinner table with my family, forcing food down my throat. The food was tasteless and cold. Earlier in the day mum had given me a note saying that she and dad would be at an Order meeting and would miss dinner. So, I had taken up the job of cooking dinner. I had never been much of a cook, and my food reflected it.  
  
I glued my eyes to my plate, refusing to look up in fear that I'd burst out crying. I slowly allowed my head to slide up. Ron sat before me looking very grim; he hadn't even touched his food. Next to him was an empty seat….I clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling a cry -- Charlie was missing from the table…he had given his life to the war….and on my left there was another missing seat that belonged to Percy…he still refused to come home. Bill wasn't there either, he was on a secret mission for The Order, they hadn't heard from him for weeks, for all I knew he was dead as well.  
  
_Sunday, Bloody Sunday  
  
Sunday, Bloody Sunday  
  
Wipe the tears from your eyes  
  
Wipe your tears away  
  
Oh, wipe your tears away  
  
Oh, wipe your tears away  
  
(Sunday, Bloody Sunday)  
  
Oh, wipe your blood shot eyes  
  
(Sunday, Bloody Sunday)_  
  
I couldn't control myself any longer; I let the tears flow freely.  
  
After what seemed like hours of crying I felt strong arms wrap around me. I looked up and blinked away my tears. Fred and George had pulled me into a tight embrace." It's ok, Gin, everything's going to be fine." whispered Fred into my ear. George stroked my head and kissed my forehead, "Everything's going to be fine," he repeated.  
  
Pulling away from the embrace I studied them intently. They had changed so much. They no longer were the prank-pulling-joke-popping teens they used to be. They looked older than they really were, both had dark circles underneath their eyes from sleepless nights, both had battle scars dotted across their cheeks almost out-numbering their freckles, and both watched me with the same worrisome expressions etched on their faces.  
  
I gave them a weak smile. "Of course it is," I said with forced cheer in my voice.  
  
Long after everyone had eaten and left the dinner table, I still sat there staring at the wall. I felt so numb, as if all the anger and frustration I had bottled up inside me had finally burst, taking my soul with it. I tore my eyes away from the wall and with the sleeve of my robes, I wiped away my tears "Everything's gonna be fine," I echoed, feeling completely hollow inside.  
  
_Sunday, Bloody Sunday (Sunday, Bloody Sunday)  
  
Sunday, Bloody Sunday (Sunday, Bloody Sunday)  
  
And it's true we are immune  
  
When fact is fiction and TV reality  
  
And today the millions cry  
  
We eat and drink while tomorrow they die  
  
(Sunday, Bloody Sunday)  
  
The real battle just begun On...  
  
Sunday Bloody Sunday  
  
Sunday Bloody Sunday..._  
  
A week had passed since my breakdown at the dinner table.  
  
And I, Ginny Weasley, was a changed person; I had completed my Auror training and was ready to dive into the war, headfirst. My brothers and parents didn't want me to fight arguing that I was too young, but I did not relent. I had made a promise to an orphan girl in the street, promised to fight for her, promised to avenge her parents and my own brother's deaths, and I wasn't going to break it.  
  
I used to be afraid to fight, afraid to get hurt, but the war had taken its toll on me. I was immune to pain now. Immune to everything. All I knew was that this war couldn't go on. Too many death's had occurred - standing in the sidelines watching others die for me, just wasn't a choice anymore.  
  
And I wasn't afraid anymore... Ginny Weasley was ready, ready to face the war, ready for the heat of battle, ready for anything that they would throw at me. And nothing could stop me now…****nothing.**


End file.
